Undecked Halls
by Batsutousai
Summary: Surprising absolutely no one, Voldemort really, REALLY hates Christmas.


**Title:** _Undecked Halls_  
 **Fandom:** _Harry Potter_  
 **Author:** Batsutousai  
 **Rating:** General  
 **Pairings:** Harry Potter/Lord Voldemort  
 **Warnings:** couple curses thrown?  
 **Summary:** Surprising absolutely no one, Voldemort really, _really_ hates Christmas.

 **A/N:** So, every year, I send out cards to those interested for the holidays, and I decided, this year, to do short little ficlets to slip into cards. The ships were voted on by my followers over the summer (because I'm in way too many fandoms, holy shit), and Harrymort was one of the winners.  
This was fic attempt number one, and I sort of felt it was a little too dark – I was aiming for fluffy or humorous ficlets – so I went ahead and wrote another ficlet for it, which is the one that's gonna be going in the cards. Which left me with this one, and I didn't want to just delete it or anything, so I've decided to go ahead and post it now.

You can also read this at Archive of Our Own, deviantArt, tumblr, or LiveJournal.

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"Best to just head back home, Potter," Malfoy said when Harry passed his guard spot at the bottom of the manor's onyx staircase up to the ridiculously gothic front door. (Some days, Harry thought Voldemort took this whole dark lord business a little too seriously. Not that he'd ever actually say as much; just because Voldemort couldn't _kill_ him, didn't mean he couldn't curse him a lot, and Harry knew from long experience that suffering Voldemort's curses generally weren't worth the moment's amusement from the reaction he'd get.)

Harry stopped and raised an eyebrow at Malfoy, because they hadn't made a habit of talking to each other since Harry'd come out on Voldemort's side. "Really," he said in as flatly unimpressed a voice as he could muster.

He couldn't see Malfoy's eyes particularly well with his mask in the way, but the way they flickered made him suspect he'd looked toward the manor. "The Dark Lord is in a bit of a...bad mood."

Harry raised his other eyebrow at that, because Voldemort was _always_ in a bad mood. Or, well, he was by the way Harry usually defined bad moods.

That said, he was fairly certain he knew the sort of bad mood Malfoy meant, given the uncharacteristic warning, and the fact that Malfoy had opted for an outdoor post, despite the winter's chill. "Sounds like I got here at a good time, then," he offered with a wide, crazed-Gryffindor grin.

"It's your head," Malfoy muttered, making a show of turning away from Harry.

Harry shook his head and stepped quickly up the steps and through the ridiculous front door. Inside, it was as dark as usual, the widely spaced oil lamps letting off just enough light to keep you from running into another person, assuming that person was facing you so you could see the white of their mask. If they were facing away from you, chances were pretty good you wouldn't notice their outline until it was too late to keep from running into them, given the required black cloaked uniforms most everyone was required to wear in the manor.

Like he'd said, Voldemort took the dark lord thing a little too seriously.

The halls were almost oppressively silent, which wasn't particularly unusual, but they were also empty, which _was_ ; Harry was used to seeing at least one Death Eater stepping quickly through the halls at that particular time of day. Even when Voldemort was in a temper.

Frowning a bit, Harry quickened his pace, admittedly a little creeped out by the empty halls.

Voldemort's office door was wide open and utterly silent, not even the sound of a quill scratching against parchment, or pages in a book being turned drifting out into the hall, which was, again, unusual. Voldemort didn't like doing nothing, so if he wasn't with someone, he was _always_ doing work. (Sometimes, even if he _was_ with someone, he'd be doing work while they talked; Merlin knew he did it often enough when Harry was there.)

Harry peeked into the office and found the tall figure standing in front of one of the windows overlooking the back garden, an air of menace curling outward from him.

That boded well.

Harry rolled his eyes at the dramatics, since Voldemort wasn't looking at him, then straightened and stepped into the room, calling out a cheerful, "Good evening, Voldie!" Because being obnoxiously cheerful was the only way he really knew of to deal with Voldemort when he was in a temper.

The curse came a little bit faster than Harry had honestly expected, but he still managed to dodge it. Thankfully. "Potter," Voldemort hissed, the only person Harry knew who could turn his surname into a promise of a painful death. His expression was twisted with rage, rather than the cold fury Harry usually faced when he was in a bad mood, which was...weird. Maybe a little worrying.

Harry forced his smile just a little bit wider, because this was still the best way he had for dealing with angry Voldemorts. "Would it kill you to actually return a _friendly_ greeting?"

He had to dodge another two curses for his trouble, but he made it to one of the other windows in one piece, which was a bit of a miracle. (Either Voldemort wasn't trying, or Harry's destination had thrown him off a bit.)

Below them, a group of Death Eaters were feeding what looked to be shiny baubles and greenery into two massive bonfires. Harry was extremely confused for a moment, until he remembered the date. Then he turned and raised an eyebrow at Voldemort and said, "I admit, giving naughty Death Eaters the charred remains of Christmas decorations is an unusual idea, but I can get behind it."

He didn't manage to dodge the following curse, but it was a relatively mild one, by Voldemort's standards, and Harry shot him a searching look as he cast the counter curse on himself.

Voldemort still looked furious, but there was something almost... _tired_ about it, and Harry cocked his head to one side before moving forward, stopping well within Voldemort's arm's reach, where he had no hope of dodging any curses. There, he conjured some mistletoe above them, then commented, "You missed a bit," while pointing up.

Voldemort's mouth twisted into a silent snarl as he looked up at the plant. "Do I look amused, Potter?"

Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes and responded by grabbing the front of Voldemort's robes to yank him down for a kiss.

Voldemort didn't quite _melt_ into the kiss, but a great deal of the menace surrounding him eased away, which was better than Harry probably could have expected.

"So," he said against Voldemort's mouth, rather than letting go and stepping back, like he probably should have, "who brought the decorations and how dead are they?"

" _Very_ ," Voldemort hissed, still fairly obviously displeased, but no longer murderously angry.

"Hm." Harry pulled back just enough that the slitted red eyes separated into two distinct eyes. "I can think of about a dozen activities that sound more fun than glaring down at the Death Eaters so none of them forget next year that Christmas is the most evilest holiday ever and needs to die."

"Do not think to _mock_ me," Voldemort returned, his tone dripping with threats.

Harry smiled. "You know they'll freak out far more if they can't see you at the window."

Voldemort's return glare was fairly obviously all for show, because he followed it by shoving Harry back a couple of steps and ordering, "Bedroom."

Harry gave a wide bow and turned to lead the way, calling back, "As you order, _my Lord_."

He wasn't even a little surprised when Voldemort didn't pause in following.

.


End file.
